


Assemblage High School

by downtonabi



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School Teachers, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtonabi/pseuds/downtonabi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where we find our favorite Avengers powerless and working as teachers at Assemblage High School.  Tony is a lazy Physics teacher far too dependent on his aide, Peter Parker.  Bruce is his best friend and a math teacher.  Steve Rogers is an American History teacher.  Nick Fury is the principal and the rest can be found once you read it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Faculty Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so comments are appreciated, but don't hurt a girl's feelings.

“Jesus, caffeine, where is the caffeine?” Tony Stark grumbled as he entered the Assemblage High School library for the faculty meeting. Steve Rogers, the American history teacher, is smiling and waving at him, motioning to the empty seat next to him and the cup of coffee placed on table right in front of it. Tony usually hated morning people on principle, but morning people who brought him his life blood deserved second chances.

  
“Rough night?” Bruce Banner, the math teacher, asked with one eyebrow raised as Tony slumped in his seat and breathed in the heavenly fumes of his coffee. Tony mumbled something incomprehensible into his coffee. He thought maybe it was a rough night, what he could remember of it. He would tell Bruce about it later, he didn’t need a look of patronizing pity from Steve Mr. Perfect Rogers this early in the morning.

  
For once, Tony was not the latest one to the faculty meeting. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton walked in a few minutes after him, animatedly chatting. The two sat down next to Bruce, across from Tony and Steve, and Clint returned Tony’s eyebrow raise with a quick, “Since we live so close, I thought Natasha and I ought to carpool. I mean, the price of gas is really high right now.”

  
Tony looked at Bruce, fluttering his eyelashes and mouthing “Carpo-oo-ol.” Bruce covered his face with the newspaper he had in front of him to hide his laughter from Natasha, Steve, and Clint. Tony was pretty sure Clint saw him, so he was going to get bitched at later, but it was worth it.

  
The library doors burst open and Thor Odinson, the gym teacher, came jogging in wearing Assemblage High School sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. He greeted his fellow faculty members, booming, “Brethren! You must join me on my next run. It was most enjoyable.” Everyone avoided eye contact with Thor, knowing that the first person who looked him in the eye automatically agreed to a morning run in Thor’s mind, which was a fate worse than death. Tony remembered the first time he mistakenly made eye contact with Thor after he had extended his weekly offer. His phone had been berated with text messages the next morning until he came out of his house and Thor was standing there, beaming. Tony had never run more than a mile a day in his life, but that morning he ran six, fearing for his life. Thor was a big guy and could rip anyone to shreds, okay?

  
Thor plopped himself down next to Loki Laufeyson, the European history teacher, who Tony hadn’t even noticed until now. Loki always sat at the table next to the one everyone else sat at, until Principal Fury made him and Thor, who always sat next to Loki, move. The unlikely duo – Thor was a hunk of muscle with long blonde hair and a loud smile, while Loki was rather skinny, extremely pale, and had dark hair that was always greased back – conversed quietly. Well, Loki spoke in hush tones and once in a while Tony could hear Thor’s shouts of “Verily!” Barton should really invite Thor into his English class the next time they go over Shakespeare, Tony thought.

  
Peter Parker, Tony’s student teacher, strode through the library doors next, looking like he was playing dress up in his father’s shirt and tie. The large brown leather briefcase didn’t help his situation. Tony would have to talk to him about that later, when he wasn’t having Peter doing the things he found boring about his job, like actually teaching his classes. He had been extremely pleased when Parker approached him with the offer to be his student teacher. Tony had immediately told Peter that it would be extremely “hands on,” and then left him on his first day with his second period Electricity and Magnetism class to go bother Bruce and shout sexual innuendos into Rogers’ class randomly.

  
Everyone sat up a little straighter when Principal Fury entered the room, followed closely by Vice Principal Coulson nipping at his heels like the little lap dog he was. Tony was still pissed at Coulson for writing him up for vulgar language after Steve had mentioned it to Coulson at lunch. A genius’s vocabulary should not be controlled, especially by a former baseball player and his biggest fan. Rogers had evidently been some kind of college baseball star, but decided to be a hero and save “the children” by becoming a high school teacher rather than going to the major leagues. Coulson worshipped the ground Steve walked on, and sometimes Tony wondered who had more control over Coulson, Steve or Fury.

“It’s another great day for education,” Fury’s patented sarcastic tone snapped Tony out of his thoughts. Tony looked up, questioning whether to stare into Fury’s eye or his eye patch or both. Supposedly Fury had lost it in some kind of boating accident, but Tony was willing to put money on the fact that Fury had never been on a boat in his life. The kids had numerous theories, but his favorite was that Fury used to be some kind of spy and had lost it in a secret war of some kind. The eye patch was fucking intimidating, even if it did belong to a guy who considered a black leather jacket appropriate work attire. Like Tony could talk, though, since he was wearing extremely wrinkled slacks, a white button up with the sleeves rolled up, and a black tie that was permanently askew.  
“Coulson will inform you of what paperwork you need to fill out this week. Yes, Stark, even you. Thor, please remember that sometimes things just need a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ answer and not a lengthy statement asserting that you are ‘for’ or ‘against’ something. On another note, Rogers, stop sending kids to my office for cursing and texting, just look at them with your stupid puppy dog eyes and make them feel bad for it. It’s much more effective. That’s it. If you need me, I’ll be in my office. Please do not need me,” and with that final sentence, Fury walked out of the library.

  
“Why do I feel like every time he talks it’s just a bulleted list of insults?” Bruce sighed.

  
Coulson began passing out all the forms for that week – attendance, payroll paperwork, monthly co-worker surveys that were supposed to promote an open atmosphere and togetherness. Tony had suggested they all just go get drunk to promote unity amongst the faculty, but Coulson had vetoed that the minute Steve had turned a disapproving eye on Tony. Steve’s disapproval face was the worst. It took everyone back to the time when their mother, or in Tony’s case, his nanny, caught them in the act of stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, or, in Tony’s case, blowing up the garage.

  
“God, Coulson, my hand’s barely recovered from the last round of surveys,” Clint groaned, but immediately shut up when Coulson gave him his patented eyebrow raise.

  
Coulson smiled at Steve as he handed him everything he needed for the week and Tony wondered if Coulson ever smiled at any other time. Paperwork and Steve, Coulson’s two loves. He’d have to discuss the children’s name possibilities with Bruce later. Tony grabbed his paperwork from Coulson and chugged the rest of his coffee, muttering his thanks to Steve. He then stood up and left for his classroom.

  
Tony didn’t believe in decorating his classroom. Steve had decorated his classroom and it looked like America had thrown up all over it. Physics was not cute and he didn’t want kids coming into his class expecting it to be. The only thing Tony had changed about the original classroom given to him was his desk chair. He had gone out and bought a state-of-the art recliner that only slightly resembled a desk chair for in-class napping purposes. On days he didn’t want to do anything, he just gave his students a college-level physics problem and slept while they tried to work it out. Tony was a master of barely getting by. He didn’t even need this job, with all the money his parents had left him, he just needed something to do during the day so he wasn’t sitting around twiddling his thumbs. Besides, Bruce, his best friend from college, had mentioned an opening here and he thought it’d be a blast. It hadn’t been a blast, but the people weren’t bad.

  
“Parker,” Tony greeted as his student teacher walked through the door, “What are the lesson plans for today?”

  
“Well, I thought I could go over Murphy’s Law with the Physics classes and Ohms with the Electricity and Magnetism students,” Peter responded as he opened his briefcase and carefully piled the pop quizzes the students had taken yesterday into stacks in order of class period. Dear lord, that kid was eager. Tony barely had to lift a finger with him around and that’s just the way he liked it.

  
“Sounds like a plan, Stan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see what Bruce is up to.” Tony left the classroom and headed a hallway over to where Bruce taught math. He found Bruce working a math problem on the board for a few students who had come in for early morning tutoring. Unlike Tony, Bruce loved his job. He had won “Teacher of the Year” three years running and probably would keep winning it until the end of time. Bruce was extremely nice and made sure all of his students were capable of passing his class.

  
“Yes, Mr. Stark?” Bruce looked up from the board and addressed Tony. The two had been best friends in college, but Bruce maintained a professional work environment. There was a huge difference between the Dr. Banner who taught at Assemblage High School and the Bruce who got drunk with Tony on the weekends.

  
“I need to update my bet on the Barton/Romanoff relationship pool,” Tony smirked - So much for professional work environments.

  
Most of Bruce’s early morning tutoring students had been trained to ignore Tony’s antics, so no one even batted an eye. Bruce sighed, a normal state of emotion when Tony was around, and pulled out his ledger. He flipped to the page the Barton/Romanoff dating bet was on (the faculty had a lot of pools going. The latest was how long it would take before Loki would burn the school down. The dude was a crazy bag of cats) and informed Tony, “You currently have fifty dollars on October 22, which is almost one month away. What are we changing it to this time? Is this because of the carpool thing?”  
“Damn right this is about the carpool thing. Let’s move up to October tenth. And, raise my bet to a hundred,” Tony forked over the extra cash. He was going to need to talk to Barton about how to casually flirt in the carpool way. There was no way he was losing to Bruce, who had bet it would take Barton until after New Year’s because he “figured Barton was a resolution type of guy.”

  
The bell for first period rang and Bruce’s students for his Calculus class poured in. Tony sat down in Bruce’s desk chair to watch until Bruce kicked him out. “Mr. Stark, I think you have a class.” Tony looked at his watch – it took Bruce fifty two seconds, just about average. Tony sauntered out and returned to his classroom to take attendance or, rather, to watch Peter take attendance.


	2. Chapter Two

Tony passed Steve’s classroom on the way to his own and decided to casually shout, “SEX!” into the open doorway. He looked in just long enough to catch Steve turning a shade as red as the tablecloth on his desk. A tablecloth for a desk? Seriously? “Steve-y Homemaker,” Tony snorted and muttered to himself.

He walked into his classroom to find Parker taking attendance. Excellent. He watched as he sat down in his desk recliner and propped his feet up on the desk. He took out his state of the art smart phone and began playing a mind numbing game to pass the time. Coulson always walked the hall for ten minutes after the late bell rang, collecting tardy students, which meant Tony had to wait until the coast was clear or he would get another lecture about “Parker is your student teacher, not your replacement, Mr. Stark, blah blah blah.”

Tony vaguely listened to Parker pass out yesterday’s pop quizzes and heard the collective groans and thanks to various gods at the results. “If you feel like your grade needs to be reconsidered or need additional help, please talk to me or Mr. Stark after class,” Peter told the students. Oh, God, Tony had not signed up for additional tutoring at the hands of his teaching assistant. Parker was obviously trying to get him back for the lab incident. It was one small fire. Parker handled it fine. Though, Tony had promised to at least physically be in the room from now on when soldering irons were being used. He never made any promises about his mental state.

Noting his ten minutes were up, he saluted Parker, who responded with an eye roll and headed to Barton’s classroom. On the way there, Tony strode past Steve’s open door again and, taking a page from Thor’s book, yelled, “Fornication!” He smirked as he heard laughter from Steve’s classroom, pleased with himself. He sauntered into Clint’s classroom, which was currently empty of students because Clint had first period free. Clint’s stance on classroom decoration sat comfortably between Steve’s over indulgence and Tony’s utter lack of color – there was a bookshelf behind Clint’s desk stuffed with various novels. Hunger Games, Lord of the Rings, and Robin Hood movie posters decorated the walls.

“Stark,” Clint didn’t even have to look up from his computer to know who had walked into the room. It was actually kind of creepy and Tony wondered if Clint was psychic or if his coming into Clint’s classroom every first period had become that routine.

“What up, Barton?” Tony settled himself on the table top portion of one of the desks. Before Clint even had a chance to answer, Tony launched into a discussion of Clint’s new driving partner – “Alright, Barton. Tony Stark’s ‘How to Flirt in the Carpool Lane 101’ – copyright pending. Number one: let her choose the tunes,” he looked at Clint, “Why are you not writing this down?”

“Uh, because it’s coming from a guy whose longest relationship could probably be determined by hours instead of months. Besides, Tasha and I’s friendship is none of your business,” Clint flipped Tony off.

“I’m wounded,” Tony mocked a gasp and clasped his hands over his chest.

“Not as wounded as you will be when Fury finds out you’re blowing off your classes again,” Clint replied.

Tony snorted. He could pretend he wasn’t afraid of Fury all he wanted, but when it came down to it, that man was intimidating and probably didn’t utilize lectures as a form of punishment like Coulson did. Actually teaching for once wouldn’t kill Tony. He pulled himself out of his lounging position and smiled wickedly at Clint. “See ya, Mr. Romanoff!” he yelled as he ran out the door. Something hit him in the back – he reached behind him and grabbed it. A spongy dart. Damn. Who the hell gave Barton a nerf gun?

Tony thought about interrupting the class going on next door, but Natasha must have heard him coming. As soon as he approached, a pale, elegant hand reached out and slammed the door shut. She was probably still angry about the time he had to emergency sub for her Italian class and taught them curse words and Italian slang terms for sex organs. Tony smirked, making a mental note to look up the same words in the other languages Natasha taught. He began to whistle as he made his way back to his classroom when he turned the corner and he slammed into Principal Fury.

“Mr. Stark, may I ask why you aren’t in your classroom?” Fury stared at Tony, arms crossed over his chest.

“Uh, bathroom break?” Tony flashed his most dazzling smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I hear my student teacher screaming for help,” he slid past Fury and continued to jauntily walk towards his classroom.

Peter and his first period class were fine, as Tony expected. He settled into his chair and debated whether it was too early for a nap. Who was he kidding? It was never too early for a nap. He propped his feet up on his desk and leaned back, expecting Peter to wake him in time for lunch. He was startled awake by a heavy tap on his arm.

“Stark, it is time to feast upon the midday meal!” A large face beamed down at him, long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“Thor, Jesus! Warn a guy, would you?” He did not appreciate his nap being interrupted by an overgrown gym rat who spoke like he had just walked out of Shakespeare in the Park.

Since the faculty at Assemblage High School was so small, they always ate together in Steve’s room, mainly because Steve always had extra napkins and cups and packed extra sandwiches because he insisted that coffee wasn’t a food group. They gathered the students’ desks around in the circle. Well, everyone else did while Tony watched. 

Tony slung himself into a desk and waited for Steve to place his sandwich in front of him. He didn’t like being handed things. Instead of placing the sandwich on his desk, though, Steve loomed over Tony and kept the sandwich in his possession. “Problem, Rogers? I’m starving here.”

“I really should let you starve, since you keep disrupting my classroom,” Steve’s blue eyes were icy.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Tony feigned innocence.

“Stark, everyone is fully aware of the fact that you’ve been yelling inappropriate things into Steve’s classroom since you found out he blushes at anything,” Natasha said. Tony observed as Steve blushed yet again, a soft tomato red that crept up his cheeks. Or apple pie red. The man was basically a walking poster child for the American Dream.

“Innocent until proven guilty. Now, can I have my sandwich?” he motioned to the square wrapped in white butcher’s paper in Steve’s large hand. There was even a toothpick holding the folds on the square of paper intact. Steve was better than any deli in the area.

Steve sighed and placed Tony’s sandwich on the desk. Tony knew that Steve could never be angry with him. In fact, he had never seen Steve become angry with anyone. Even when Steve sent students to the office he was calm, cool, and collected. It was probably why his students still loved him even if Steve was kind of a bitch about texting in class. Well, that and everyone with eyes crushed on Steve at some point in their lives. Bruce often complained that Steve’s after school tutoring rate was higher than his because of his lack of “rippling pectorals.”

Everyone discussed the latest dumbass things their students had done, well except for Loki. Tony was pretty sure that Loki had majored in brooding rather than European History in college. Instead of joining the circle of desks, Loki sat in the corner and observed the others. Tony didn’t know why Thor kept dragging Loki to lunch when the guy so obviously didn’t want to be there. He chose to ignore Loki’s creepy stare and scarfed down his sandwich, listening to Natasha describe how she had scared the shit out of a kid she caught cheating on a French test.

The bell rang and Steve’s fifth period class began shuffling in. Tony followed the rest of the lunch crew out of the room, but paused at the whiteboard, debating whether he should draw a quick sketch of a penis as a present to Steve. As he turned to reach for the dry erase marker, he caught Natasha’s eyes glaring at him from the door way. Shit. Tony immediately decided he enjoyed the use of his right hand too much to risk the wrath of Natasha Romanoff, so he stuffed his hands into his pockets and sauntered out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates guys! I realized that I had two chapters posted on fanfiction.net so you're getting the second chapter PLUS the third chapter that I just wrote. Kudos and Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for welcoming me into the fandom. :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author finally makes an attempt at plot and bites her fingernails as she awaits the flames.

Tony was dozing off while his students took a test when an intricately folded piece of paper hit him on the side of the head. He jolted up to find the asshole who did it, but no one was in the doorway and the kids were all absorbed in the problems before them. He sighed and unfolded the paper - Barton's scrawl was unmistakeable. "Drunk Friday?"

Tony grimaced and checked the clock, "Five minutes!" he sung cheekily, the grin turning into a smirk at the scared looks on his students' faces. Parker had some job interview, so Tony had made the problems extremely difficult so he didn't have to deal with angsty teenage gossip in case anyone finished early.

He sat there, tapping out the bass line to "Another One Bites The Dust" until the bell rang. The class piled their tests on his desk as they left. One student paused at his desk, biting their lip.

"What's the problem, Altman?" Tony looked up from his phone, which he had pulled out the minute the bell had rung.

"Mr. Parker said there would be after school tutoring?" the blonde junior asked hopefully.

Tony groaned. Damn Parker. "Alright, kid. I've got some time, but don't speak of this to anyone.They'll throw a party or something." Tony motioned for Teddy to pull up a chair to his desk.

When Tony made it to the bar several hours later, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha were already there. "Four shots of scotch," Tony stated as he slid onto a barstool.

"You get one," the red-headed bartender stated.

"Aw, come on, Pep. Don't be like that. How do you know it's not for them too?" Tony flashed a toothy smile.

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Bruce hates liquor, Natasha's one true love is vodka, and Barton only drinks beer," she rattled off. Tony tried to use his puppy dog eyes on her. "If you want someone who will help you with your liver failure, find another bar," she turned around to help some other patrons.

"This is why our relationship didn't work out!" Tony snarked after her. He frowned momentarily and then downed his scotch.

"Why? You get tired of getting your ass handed to you?" Clint smirked behind his mug of beer.

Tony responded by sticking his tongue out at him.

"Oh, very mature," Natasha commented, rolling her eyes.

"Says the woman who gifted Clint a Nerf gun," Bruce muttered under his breath.

Natasha cut her eyes at Bruce while Tony let out a guffaw. "That was you? This fucker," he pointed accusingly at Clint, "hit me in the back with one of those darts earlier this week!"

"Then it served its purpose," Natasha's lips twitched into a slight smile.

Clint opened his mouth to say something, but his pocket began playing "Danger Zone." He answered it quickly, spoke a few affirmations, hung up, and announced, "Thor is coming."

"Better batten down the hatches, Pep," Tony called out.

Pepper approached, rolling her eyes, "What now, Tony?"

"Thor's joining us," Bruce told her.

Pepper's eyes widened slightly, but then she regained her effortless composure. "Just refer to the beer as mead and we'll be fine. Though, if he brings that douche Loki again, I'm not responsible for what happens if he insults my wine selection again," she warned.

The bell above the bar door jingled and Tony prepared for Thor's usual bone crunching greeting, but was instead greeted by Coulson, dressed in his grey suit that still looked freshly pressed.

"Phil!" Pepper smiled.

"That's not his name," Tony said with disdain.

"What did you think his first name was? Vice Principal?" Bruce asked.

"I always assumed it was Fun-Sucker," Tony shrugged. Coulson glared at him from the table across the bar he had sat down at. "Jesus, does that guy hear everything?"  
"He either has superhuman hearing to make up for Fury's lack of eye or that's his permanent look when you're on a fifty yard radius," Clint offered as an explanation.  
"I'm going to go with the latter," Tony said.

The bell jingled again and the four friends turned to look at who had arrived this time – “Greetings, my friends!” Thor boomed into the bar. “Loki has chosen not to join in our festivities, so I have brought an acceptable replacement!” Tony heard Clint breathe out a sigh of relief at this news, which got him a cuff on the back of the head from Natasha. 

“Who’d ya find, big guy?” Tony grinned. The grin turned into a grimace as he saw Steve Rogers walk in the door. “Well, speaking of fun-suckers,” he muttered under his breath.

Bruce overheard him and shot Tony a look. “You’re just mad that he never says yes when you invite him.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Bruce was ridiculous, he obviously kept inviting Steve “Most Likely a Virgin” Rogers to their nights of drunken debauchery as a joke. He didn’t actually want the guy to take him up on the offer.

“Hey, guys!” Steve greeted them with a sheepish smile, running his fingers through his golden hair. “I hope I’m not ruining anything. Thor was very … forceful in his invitation,” he shrugged.

Tony opened his mouth to make a quip, but shut it when he caught Natasha’s eye. If looks could kill, that woman would have killed the entire male population by now.

“The more the merrier,” Clint grinned. He waved to get Pepper’s attention. “Pepper, could you get Steve here something?”

“Sure,” she smiled politely. “What will it be?”

Steve began to say something, but Thor interrupted him, “Mead for everyone, my dear Pepper! It seems that Anthony has finally begun to offer the art of instruction to his students himself instead of utilizing the young Mr. Parker!”

Everyone turned immediately to look at Tony, whose eyes widened. “I have no idea what he’s talking about. I think you might have hit your head in the weight room there, buddy.” He winced as Thor patted him vigorously on the back.

“No, Steve assures me that you tutored Altman of the Juniors post normal instruction hours. It is something to be proud of, Anthony. You are molding young minds!” Thor nodded at Pepper to go get the mead and she allowed herself a small smile of amusement as she began filling mugs from the tap.

“I’m going to kill that kid,” Tony groaned.

“Oh, was it a secret?” Steve blushed. “He’s usually in my room after school, so I asked Billy Kaplan where he was and he informed me he was with you. I thought he was joking, but then I passed by your room to see for myself.”

“You were spying on me?” Tony tried his best to look horrified and Steve blushed even more.

“Oh, please, Tony, we all walk by your room at one point or another to check on poor Peter,” Natasha sighed.

“No more work talk,” Clint declared. “I come here to forget about those ankle biters and that’s what we’re going to do.” Everyone murmured their agreement as Pepper set down their respective mugs of “mead” in front of them. 

“Let us toast to Anthony and then we will initiate the usual Friday of the Drunks activities,” Thor raised his mug and they all clinked them together.  
“Drunk Friday, big guy, no need to Shakespeare this shit up,” Tony commented as he took a large swig of beer.

Several mugs of beer later, Tony was drunkenly leaning on Bruce as they watched Natasha and Clint sing the hell out of “Don’t Stop Believin’.” “Kind of a cliché song choice if you ask me,” Tony announced loudly over the music. “Barton should have chosen “A Whole New World” or some other fucking love song and made his move.” Steve raised an eyebrow from his seat next to Tony. They had moved to one of the round tables to watch the festivities. “God, we’re not in school, I can say ‘fuck’ whenever the fuck I want,” Tony groaned.

“The eyebrow raise was more inclined towards the fact that you used a Disney song as an example of a ‘fucking love song,’” Steve said drily.

“Oh my god, Mr. Perfect cursed. Bruce, did you hear it? Write it down. I want to remember this moment forever,” Tony said. Bruce merely shook his head at him. “He’s not even drunk. How are you not drunk? We’ve each probably had at least four mugs of beer. I meant mead, calm down, Thor,” Tony reached to pat Thor on the shoulder. “We should have alcohol poisoning by now, except, you know – Russian, built like a God, functioning alcoholic, and I really don’t know how the hell Bruce and Barton are doing it.”

“Pepper switched me out to ginger ale after the first mug and Clint just really enjoys being drunk,” Bruce commented.

“Goddammit, how did I not notice that? Anyway, Steve “Slightly less Perfect Now that He’s Said Fuck” Rogers, how do you do it?” He leaned towards Steve and squinted his eyes as if examining him.

“I have a really great metabolism and alcohol tolerance,” Steve shrugged. “And, me cursing is not that big of a deal. I just like to maintain a professional work environment.”

“Bo-oring,” Tony rolled his eyes. Who cared if Bruce and Steve had the best test results in the entire school? They probably didn’t have as much fun as he did.

“You know, I bet you couldn’t last a week actually teaching,” Steve commented.

“Oh, no, don’t get him started,” Bruce sighed and turned to talk to Thor.

“I could, I just choose not to,” Tony gave Steve his best smartass grin.

“You chose to help Teddy,” Steve pointed out.

Oh, God. Tony was too drunk for this conversation. Now was not the time for Steve to convince him to be a better person. He needed an out and quickly. “I chose to help Teddy because he’s the only good fucking hitter you’ve got on that shit baseball team of yours,” he slurred. He wasn’t that drunk, but the slur made it more likely that Steve would forgive him for that later.

“The state of my baseball team is not what this conversation is about, besides, you don’t even like sports,” Steve hissed. Tony had obviously punched an open wound.  
“I’ll tell you what, Steve – if your team of losers wins their next game. I know the schedule, it’s against Midtown High. Parker went there and it’s just a bunch of nerds, should be an easy win if you actually try,” Steve crossed his arms at that comment, but Tony continued “I’ll publicly offer after-school tutoring for a week; Tuesday and Thursday only.” Tony waited expectantly for Steve’s reply, but the man had begun writing on a napkin. Tony gave him a questioning look.

“I’m afraid you’ll forget at this level of intoxication,” Steve slipped the napkin toward him, which detailed what Tony had just said and had a bold x at the bottom with a line next to it for him to sign. Tony gave another of his patented eye rolls, grabbed the pen from Steve’s hand and signed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the anon who keeps sending me messages on tumblr to finish this!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am finally back into the swing of things. This chapter is shorter, but I promise quicker updates from now on! Please review, etc. You're the best!

"Oh, God, my head," Tony groaned as he opened his eyes. He was in his bed, still fully clothed and alone. That meant he didn't go home with anyone from the bar last night -- a relief and also a disappointment. "JARVIS, coffee," he instructed the Artificial Intelligence system he had installed in his house on a whim. Just because he didn't feel like teaching his classes didn't mean he wasn't a genius. Not only a genius, but a genius with money.

"Certainly, Master Stark," the AI answered pleasantly. The moment Tony began to smell the coffee brewing in the coffee pot on his nightstand (a man has needs, okay?), a sudden rush of light came into the room.

"Jesus Christ, JARVIS, could you warn a guy?" Tony pulled his bright red duvet over his head, trying to block out as much light as possible.

"Your vitals and your arrival into your bedroom with the assistance of Mr. Banner last night helped me determine you might need additional assistance awakening, sir," JARVIS responded, his artificially polite tone laced with sass. Tony really shouldn't have added personality to his programming. It was a terrible idea and he regretted every minute of it.

"Where is Bruce-y?" Tony lifted the duvet slightly, squinting at his coffee pot, then flinging out an arm and feeling his way to grab the handle and pull it under the duvet with him.

"He is in his apartment, sir. Would you like me to inform him you are awake?" Bruce lived in an apartment above Tony's garage. This sounded like a meager living space, but it wasn't when you accounted for the fact that Tony's garage held Tony's four favorite cars and Bruce's 'just for fun' laboratory, a Christmas gift from Tony. Bruce had originally refused to step foot in it, saying it was too much, but Tony had a way of forcing himself and his outlandish gifts onto people. Besides, what were science bros for?

"No, no," Tony sipped some coffee straight out of the pot and finally pulled the duvet off his head and faced the sunlight. "I'll go visit him myself," Tony pulled himself out of bed. He stopped at his walk-in closet to change into weekend clothes -- a Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of grease-stained and holey jeans. He walked the path to the garage, still carrying the pot of coffee and banged on the door. "Honey buns!" he yelled.

"What do you want, Tony?" the door opened and revealed Bruce, dressed in a wrinkly purple-button up shirt and equally rumpled khaki pants.

"Can't a man just visit his best friend who happens to live above his garage?" Tony pouted.

"Well, yes," Bruce looked a tad flustered at this response and invited Tony in, despite knowing the other man probably had ulterior motives for his visit.

"Gross, papers," Tony said derogatorily as he moved the papers Bruce had been grading out of the way and plopped down on the leather sofa that sat against one of Bruce's living room walls. Bruce simply snorted in response and gathered the papers Tony had removed into his hands and sat down in the leather armchair that was placed next to the sofa. Bruce began grading again, and Tony drained the rest of the coffee in his coffee pot. "So," he began.

 

Bruce peered at Tony over his wire-rimmed glasses. "Yes?"

"I need to know what the hell happened last night, starting after karaoke. I remember bits and pieces, but most of it's fuzzy. Fill in the gaps," Tony requested.

 

"Uh, let's see," Bruce put down his papers and gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. "After Clint and Natasha finished Don't Stop Believin', you decided to, and I quote, 'show them how it's done,' and did a near perfect rendition of Shoot to Thrill. I was impressed, really," Bruce commented drily. "Then you tried to convince all of us that you were some kind of superhero and kept jumping off of the bar shouting, 'I am Iron Man.' You then collapsed in Natasha's lap. She shoved you off and I, as usual, was left to haul your drunken ass home. Steve helped. He gave me something to give to you." With this final statement, Bruce stood up and went into his bedroom to search for something in the pocket of the pants he wore last night.

"Wait, why did Steve help?" Tony yelled. He was confused. Why would Mr. Perfect help haul Drunk Tony, who was probably the furthest you could get from perfect, home.

"I don't know," Bruce shrugged, coming out of his bedroom and dropping a folded napkin into Tony's lap. "I was glad for the help, though, I think you're getting fatter," he joked.

"If anything, you're getting weaker, snickerdoodle," Tony lobbed back. He opened the napkin and recognized his drunken signature at the bottom. He began reading what was above it. "Shit," he snickered.

"What?"

"It seems I told Steve if his little baseball team beats Midtown High, I'll offer tutoring Tuesday and Thursday the following week," Tony relayed to Bruce.

"Huh," Bruce looked at his watch. "You know, I think they're practicing right now if you want to go take a look at the competition."

"Why would I do that? The Assemblage High School baseball team has been the proud winner of only participation ribbons every year Steve has coached the team. This is going to be a piece of cake," Tony linked his hands behind his head and laid down on Bruce's couch.

"I don't know," Bruce shook his head. "Steve seems like he might be a pretty competitive guy. I hear he voluntarily goes running with Thor."

"Someone nominate that man for sainthood," Tony swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood up. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to go see. It's not like I have anything to do anyway." He looked derogatorily at Bruce's papers before heading out the door.

"You know, I hope Steve wins this bet, because I'd love to see you have to actually do your job," Bruce called as Tony shut the door. Tony just flipped him off in response.


End file.
